


Why Didn't You Tell Me? (11x22 Spoilers)

by Winchester_with_Wings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DO NOT COPY, DO NOT REPLICATE, Do Not Translate, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Overprotective Sam, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Season 11, Season 11 Spoilers, Smut, Spoilers, prompt, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place after the episode 22 of season 11. Sam had convinced you to stay behind during the big showdown with Amara. Just like he neglected to tell Dean, he didn’t tell you about his part of the plan with the Mark of Cain. The news hits you hard since you have feelings for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Didn't You Tell Me? (11x22 Spoilers)

Sam and Dean come back to the bunker supporting the limp bodies of Lucifer and Chuck. You’d been going mad, drumming your fingernails on the table waiting and hoping that everyone would come back from the big showdown with Amara. Your impatience and growing anxiety eventually built up into bitterness and frustration at yourself for letting Sam convince you that it was better if you stayed here. Just wait until you told Sam that Amara had actually come looking for Chuck here. You’d only just managed to get into the warded dungeon in time before Amara sensed your presence and by that time Rowena had sucked her in.

Sam’s arm is awkwardly wrapped around Chuck’s waist with the unconscious man–Lord’s–arm tossed over his shoulders. His feet are dragging across the floor. He looks dead. You jump to your feet to come to Sam’s and Chuck’s aid. Your height being closer to Chuck’s, it’s easier for you to take Chuck from Sam so that Sam can help Dean with Lucifer–Castiel? No you need to remember that Castiel’s vessel is now Lucifer’s. Or is it? Lucifer’s weight is being fully supported by Dean too. Is Lucifer dead too? What does that mean for Castiel?

“What the hell happened?” you ask, using your free hand to cup Chuck’s cheek and lift his face to look at him. You think you might hear a slight moan. “Is Amara gone? Is she back in the cage?” Sam and Dean exchange looks like they’re debating on what to tell you. What the hell is that about? This is no time to keep secrets! “Tell me!” You ease Chuck’s weak form into a chair. Sam and Dean do the same with Lucifer. Dean kneels next to Lucifer, the way he’s being attentive tells you that Dean is inspecting Castiel’s vessel instead.

“Amara is still alive, not caged,” Sam says with a sigh. “And uh…God is…he’s uh…he’s dying.” Your shoulders slump with helplessness. You glance at Dean and Lucifer. “I think she…she killed Lucifer too.” That news is a little ambiguous. No one wanted Lucifer around after Amara was gone but what does killing Lucifer do to Castiel and his vessel?

“So what do we do now? Is there anything we can do to heal Chuck? Maybe the angels can help!” you suggest.

“It’s worth looking into,” Dean grumbles. “We need to figure out how to kill Amara or convince Chuck to do it when he’s restored,” Dean gets to his feet and shoots Sam an angry glare. “Because putting Amara back in the cage is not an option anymore.” Sam rolls his eyes, sighs and gives Dean a bitchface.

“Dean, come on…we talked about this…”

“About what?” you ask, completely baffled.

“But did you tell her?” Dean gestures to you. You’re looking back and forth between Sam and Dean.

“Tell me _what_?”

“Dean,” Sam tries to stop him.

“That Sam made a deal with Chuck. To put Amara back in the cage…Sam was gonna take on the Mark of Cain.”

Your heart sinks. It drops to the bottom of your stomach and is crushed by a ton of bricks. Your lips part, a quiet gasp escaping as you chin starts to tremble, with fear, sadness, anger…you’re not sure. Because a fire rises up in your cheeks and you can feel yourself turning red as your eyes burn hot with tears. How could Sam make that decision and not tell anyone? How could he not tell Dean? How could he not tell you??

Sam recognizes the hurt in your eyes. He takes a step towards you, extending his arms like he’s going to take a hold of your arms.

“Y/N, I can explain. Dean understands it now too.”

“No Sam, after what just happened back there. I’m not gonna take that chance again,” Dean replies gruffly.

“Y/N,” Sam says, coming closer to you. You shove his arms away and he’s stunned by the anger your emit.

“No. Sam.” You shove at his solid chest with all your might, making him take a few steps back as you charge out of the room. The angry tears fall without your permission and you harshly wipe them away.

Of course Sam doesn’t know how you feel about him so yeah, he probably doesn’t get why you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. He didn’t even bother to tell Dean until it was almost too late so you shouldn’t be taking it so personally but you do. When Sam and Dean left with Chuck and Lucifer to meet with Crowley and Rowena, you’d been beside yourself. Mad that you had let Sam talk you into staying behind, worried that they would never come back, worried that they would fail and the world would come to an end, that you’d never see Sam again and you’d never get to tell him the way you feel. You’d almost convinced yourself that even if the world was ending you would tell Sam when he came back but you’re so mad that you could actually slap him.

And you do.

“Y/N, wait,” he calls out. Sam’s heavy footsteps signal that he’s chasing after you. His strong hand wraps around your entire bicep as he tries to stop you. You whirl around and your open palm connects with the side of his face. The shock and the sting–his cheek is already turning pink–causes Sam to release you and take a step back.

“How could you not tell me!?” You shove at his chest again and he’s pushed back against the wall. “Did you really think me so fragile, that I couldn’t handle it, that I wouldn’t understand, that I didn’t even matter? That maybe I’d know an alternative?” You let it all out, the tears falling freely and blazing red streaks down your cheeks. You pound at his chest; Sam hands gently hold onto your upper arms keeping you close as you take out your frustration.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, whispering and trying to calm you down. “I should’ve told  Dean _and_ you. I didn’t think about it like that.”

“That’s right!” You push yourself away from Sam and out of his grasp. “Of course you didn’t.You didn’t think about that. You didn’t think about me.” Of course, rationally Sam was thinking about the world and being selfless, but selfless Sam can be so infuriating sometimes. “You didn’t think about the people who care about you! Dean’s not the _only_ person who _loves_ you, Sam.”

You leave Sam standing there in the hall, slamming your bedroom door shut and locking it.

After a few minutes, you hear someone try the doorknob but upon realizing it’s locked, they don’t try again.

 

* * *

 

You sulk in your room for at least an hour or so.

First, you’re just laying on your bed, your body and mind exhausted from the stress of the big showdown–even though you weren’t there you begrudgingly note. Then you decide to keep yourself busy. You clean your room and are folding laundry when a soft knock sounds at your door.

“Y/N?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sam,” you say, shaking your head. But that gesture is directed to you because you’ve realized you were an idiot to confess your feelings for Sam in that context.

“Um,” Sam clears his throat, “It’s about Chuck, and Cas.” Dropping a pair of socks on your underwear pile, you cross the room and open the door but only slightly.

“What about Cas? Is he…” Sam gives you a small smile and raises his eyebrows.

“He’s okay. He’s with us.” Sam runs his fingers through his hair. You release a sigh of relief, swinging the door open all the way and walking back to your laundry. “I guess Amara only killed Lucifer. Cas must’ve been buried deep enough in the vessel that she didn’t get him.”

“That’s good,” you say, your relief and joy that your friend Castiel is still alive allows a small tear to fall from the corner of one eye. You take a deep breath and strengthen your resolve to not fall apart like earlier. “And Chuck?” You glance over your shoulder.

Sam has closed your bedroom door and is leaning against it, his tan arms crossed over his chest–which is displayed all too well with a one-size-too-small t-shirt. Seriously? Does Sam even realize how attractive he is? How is it that he hasn’t realized your feelings for him when you’re obviously checking him out all the time?

“Cas has an idea on how to heal him. It involves taking him to Heaven. I guess all the angels might be able to heal him.”

“That’s good. That means there’s hope,” you comment. Hope for the world, yes. Hope for you, your heart and dignity? Probably not.

“Right.” Sam sounds closer now. “Y/N, we should talk.” You fold a pair of jeans with more force than necessary.

“I told you Sam, I don’t want to talk about it.” You’re keeping your head down. If you dare to look at Sam you know he’ll have those signature puppy dog eyes on and you can’t resist them.

“Y/N, I…” Sam’s clearly trying to push this. Is it really something so terrible that he just wants to get it over with? “I didn’t know,” he says. You shrug.

“Yeah well, it’s not like there’s ever been a good time to tell you. Hunters don’t really get to fall in love, do they?” Sam comes closer to your left side. He can sense your discomfort so he doesn’t look at you but he’s ended up standing near the corner of your bed where right in front of him is your underwear pile.

 _Shit._ So instead of his hazel eyes looking over your face, he gets to investigate your panty collection and notice that you like lace and silk over cotton and green is your favorite color. His long arm hanging at his side brings his hand within an inch of your undergarments. One of his fingers dares to hook onto the strap of one pair.

“Hunters don’t get to have happy endings,” you sigh, your chin is trembling a bit. You bite your lip to control your emotions. “ _Obviously,_ considering with the way today is going…” Sam looks at you and turns towards your body.

“Y/N, wait,” he murmurs. His left hand cups your right cheek so that he can turn your face to look at him. His right arm loops around your waist as he pulls you into his body. His soft lips only just graze yours the first time.

He pulls back to let his eyes search over your features, gauging your reaction. You probably look stunned but once your eyes lock with his, Sam smiles. He tilts his head the other way and slants his mouth across yours. His hand on your cheek slides into your hair, cradling your head.

Your hands slide up Sam’s chest and his grip on your waist constricts, closing all space between your bodies. You feel a heat coursing through your veins and you’re not sure if it’s just your budding arousal or Sam’s actually radiating body heat. Either way you love it and you’re likely to become addicted to it.

“Let me in baby,” Sam groans against your mouth, his teeth graze your bottom lip. You moan, your lips parting and allowing entrance for Sam’s tongue. His large hand slides from your waist to squeeze your ass. He urges you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. He pulls his lips away from yours and starts kissing a trail along your jaw and throat. “I didn’t know,” he whispers, “I didn’t know you felt the same way. I want that with you,” he says, referring to your statement about happy endings.

Could this really be happening? Is Sam really easing you down onto your bed? His hands wandering all over your body, feeling and memorizing every curve. His hand goes under your shirt and starts drifting up your body.  His hips are set up between your legs. He grinds into you, his long legs kicking your pile of clothes off the bed.

“Hey,” you protest. Sam chuckles and his stubbly chin and cheeks on your throat give you goosebumps.

“I’ll help you clean up later. But first,” Sam pulls on the hem of your shirt, taking it off over your head. “There’s some other clothes I want to toss on the ground.” With your incessant clawing at his own shirt, Sam removes it and his body is just as you’d imagined: tan and solid with tight corded muscles underneath skin as smooth as marble.

You hand automatically touches the anti-possession tattoo on his pec. You kiss and suck at his neck, down his collarbone and to the tattoo. His chest is dusted with body hair and you relish the feel of it under your hands. You even dare to kiss and nip at his nipple. Sam’s body jolts in surprise at the sensation and he chuckles, his hand in your hair lightly pulling your mouth away from his sensitive nipples.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he half-growls, half-laughs. You bit your lip.

“Did you like it?”

His response is, “Let’s see if you like it.” He reaches around to unclasp your bra and free your breasts. His mouth captures one of them, his tongue twirling and his teeth grazing over your sensitive bud. His rough, calloused fingers pull and twist at your other nipple. You arch your back, your body writhing with pleasure. “Mmmm, have you wanted this for a long time?” he growls, kissing his way down your stomach while both hands knead your breasts. “Because I have.”

“Mmmph, Sam,” you gasp as his fingers work at the button on your jeans. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull his lips away from your body. “Wait, Sam, we don’t have time for this, do we?” you ask, mentally kicking yourself for being so conscientious about the end of the world. You suppose this is the exact same thinking that had kept Sam quiet about his part of the plan with everyone.

“Yes,” Sam gets up onto his feet, lithe and graceful like a tiger. “There’s no better time than now. “I want you, Y/N.” You respond with the same sentiment, rolling your body with wanton need. He starts to undo his own jeans and shucks them off. His cotton Saxx boxer briefs are drawn tight with his growing erection. You can’t believe this…he…is all yours. He crawls back onto the bed and starts to unbutton your jeans. “Am I gonna see some of those sexy panties?” he says in a husky whisper. Your cheeks burn red.

“Maybe,” you tease, smiling with the tip of your tongue caught between your teeth. Sam tugs eagerly and the line of your hips where your panties would’ve started is exposed. “Or maybe not…maybe I’m not wearing any.” Sam laughs as you lift your butt to aid your stripping. “It is laundry day after all.” Sam groans with sexual frustration as he pulls off your jeans. Sure enough there is no underwear to be found.

“Fuck,” Sam groans, looking up and down your body. “You’re gorgeous. Always have been.” Sam comes forward, covering your body with his but not putting all of his weight on you. “I was wrong,” he admits between your heated kisses. He’s grinding into you, the cloth of his underwear is the only barrier between your soaking center and his stiff cock. “I was so wrong. I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you about the mark. Should’ve told you how I felt. Told you that I love you.” Sam lifts his head, breathing heavily, his lips swollen from your kiss. “I was an idiot. Please forgive me?” You caress his face, brushing his soft brown hair out of his eyes.

“You’re only an idiot for stalling right now, Sam. I love you and I need you so much right now but you’re talking too much,” you grin and Sam laughs, burying his face in your neck.

“I like taking my time,” Sam gives a weak excuse, stifling his chuckle as his hand moves down your body to the apex between your legs. You want to make some quip about how they don’t _have_ much time. But the predatory look in Sam’s eyes has stolen your voice. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.” He slides a finger inside you, groaning at the realization of how wet you are. “You’re dripping wet, baby” he says, shifting his whole body down. “I wanted to make sure you were ready…for me,” he slides another finger inside you, stretching your entrance.

The next thing you know his hot breath is blowing on your wet lips and then Sam’s tongue is lapping at your juices, sucking on and twirling around your clit. He crooks his fingers inside you as he moves them in and out, eliciting downright shameless noises from your throat. The work of his fingers and tongue bring you to a sudden climax that has your thighs quivering. He dares to add a third finger and you gasp; he chuckles and kisses the inside of your thigh. He only keeps it there for a moment before pulling his fingers out completely. He licks them and then licks a straight line up your center.

“We’re definitely ready,” he says, getting up to strip off his underwear. His cock bounces up once freed and your eyes go wide. The V lines of his hips all point to this massive _thing_ which you’ve only ever fantasized about. Turns out your imagination had underestimated Sam’s length and girth. You should’ve known that a large man like him would be big but you’d just always imagined something average. Now you’re the idiot. Because Sam Winchester has never been just average.

However, his cock _is_ to scale with the rest of him, especially when you watch him wrap his hand around himself and pump a few times. He’s got this rare cocky grin on his face as he watches you inspect him.

“You look like a pretty little doe in headlight right now,” he comments, crawling up the bed between your legs. You try to form some snappy response but you don’t have one. All you can think about is how good Sam’s cock is going to feel inside you. It’s been awhile since you’ve had sex. You’ll be so tight that he’ll probably enjoy himself too. Oh god, you hope so. But there’s no time to have that sort of insecurity. Sam’s already admitted to loving you.

He’s lining himself up with your entrance but you reach out and grab his forearm.

“Wait.” Sam freezes, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?” He asks, his furrowed brows making him look like a scared puppy. You just give him and reassuring smile and push at his chest, silently getting your point across that you want him on his back.

He rolls over and you climb onto him, straddling his thick thighs. Sam’s pawing at you as you settle yourself over him. He holds his cock at the base, erect and ready for you to sink down onto. You control the pace as you take him in inch by inch. And once you bottom out, you stay there for a moment to adjust to his size. His fingers hadn’t really prepared you.

Sam’s hips buck with impatience and the jolt of pleasure makes you squeal. He apologizes sheepishly and you smirk at him.

“Don’t be. Keep going.”

Sam thrusts up into you and you grind down against him. His hands hold onto your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. He reaches up and squeezes your breasts as you ride him.

“Mmph, fuck,” Sam groans, his eyes squinting shut. You come once again, your walls clenching him and pushing him to the edge. But Sam swiftly rolls you over, pinning you to bed with your legs wrapped around his waist as he drives into you. Sometimes the pace is fast and hard, sometimes he slows down and hits you with long and deep strokes. You’re not sure which one you like more. They’re both maddening.

“Ohmygod, oh, oh god, Sam, ohmygod,” you pant as your body tenses up like a spring. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and the overwhelming heat and sweat of your bodies joined together is met with a synchronized orgasm as you cry out, holding onto Sam for dear life while he spills his seed in you.

Sam gingerly pulls out of you and collapses onto the bed beside you. He rests his forearm on his forehead, wiping away sweat as well as signalling his exhaustion while he pants.

“Shit,” he sighs.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, rolling onto your side and into his body. You rest a hand on his chest as it rises and falls.

“I usually last longer than that,” he chuckles. That’s funny, you think, because by the way your legs feel you’d been on top for at least five or ten minutes and then on your back for another five or ten.

“If that wasn’t your A game, then I can’t wait for next time,” you joke. Sam chuckles, wrapping his arm around you.

“I guess it had just been a long time coming.”

“Excellent word choice,” you interrupt.

“It felt really good. Too good,” he comments looking down at you, his arm tightening around you. “It feels good to finally be with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you question. Sam comically rolls his eyes.

“Why didn’t _you_ tell _me_?” he retorts. You don’t want to ruin the moment by listing all of your lame excuses so you just snuggle up to Sam.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I agree,” Sam says, wrapping his other arm around you and enveloping you into a safe but extremely warm cocoon. “It doesn’t matter anymore because now we know. Now we know that a hunter can live that happy ending. And I’m never letting that or _you_ go.”

Mark of Cain be damned. You guys will find another way to beat Amara.


End file.
